Rhonan, Wolf Prince
by Lamreal
Summary: Hircine, Deadric Prince of the Hunting Grounds, Lord of all Lycans and patron to Hunters, travels to Atmora, the Northerm continent of Nirn. There he falls for an Atmoran beauty and nine months later sires a Child. This is his story, Rhonan son of Hircine!
1. Chapter 1 Wolf Prince, Dragon Lord

**_Chapter I: Wolf Prince, Dragon Lord._**

 _ **Fifteen Years before the return of Alduin**_

 _ **Hunting Grounds**_

 _ **Hircine's Domain**_

Hircine looked up, a blinding flash of light illuminating his once serene domain. As the light withered, the form of an elderly man, beard as white as snow and eyes as blue as a pure days sky, replaced the radiance.

Hircine grunted before changing shape as well, becoming a man of lean stature, wolfish grin adorning a handsome face. "Well, Well… Akatosh, Devine of Time and Space, Lord of the Sky, King of Dragons. What brings you to my… Domain." Hircine purred, his amber eyes flashing in wry amusement.

Akatosh peered around at his surroundings, genuinely enjoying the natural beauty of Hircines Hunting Grounds. Of all the Deadra, Hircine was his most liked.

"Your recent plaything has sprouted fruit, oh lord of the Hunt" He murmured, voice as soft as a breeze. "She has given you a son, born of an Atmoran woman no less, very nicely done Hircine" Akatosh praised.

Hircine immidiatly became defensive, his form shifting to that of a wolf, its hackles raised, growls eminating from the dark mass of black fur. "You shall not harm him, to attempt such would be a grave mistake!" The Deadric Prince roared, his power rising in concert with his rage.

Akatosh mearley ignored him, walking over to the nearby pool of water, small fish rippling the water. "Peace, I mean him no harm. I come with an offer, one that shall benefit him well, and you for that matter" He said, the words slowly easing the wrathful wolf Lord.

Hircine calmed, approaching the pool himself. He saw that Akatosh had made a scrying image on the water, showing his newborn being held in the arms of his mother. His eyes were a deep amber, akin to his own, hair a snowy white, like his mothers.

"What is your offer, Lord" Hircine said, his voice showing the love he held for his true first born son.

Akatosh took a moment before replying. "I wish to make him one of my Dragonborn, gift him with the blood, a mighty power indeed. Fear not, this will be an addition to your own blood, not a replacement." He finished, easing the once again rising rage.

"And you need my permission to bless one of my kin. What is in it for me, for my son? Your gifted tend to live short, unhappy lives, full of agony and betrayal. Speak now or leave." He rasped.

Akatosh was shocked, he expected Hircine to jump at the chance, not many were granted his gift.

"In addition to my blood, I shall later give him a portion of my power, giving him the ability to create portals to other realms, ones you will be granted access to. This is a true gift, one my kin would remind me of being to dangerous" He admonished himself.

Hircine grunted at that, thinking deeply before slowly nodding his accent. "Agreed" with that he turned his face once more to the image of his son, Rhonan of Atmora.

 _ **Line break**_

 ** _Ten years later._**

 ** _Province of Skyrim_**

 ** _City of Solitude_**

Rhonan looked on, the Nords going about their business, plying their trades. He had just arrived on the mainland, finding no food or shelter he began to use some of the skill taught to him by his late mother.

Seeing a man, the pouch at his belt heavy, he had his target. With inhuman speed, he slipped past the human, his now razor sharp nails slicing the purse from the fat mans waist.

Before the man knew he had been robbed, Rhonan was already gone.

This repeated a few dozen times before he knew it was time to leave. Using the stolen money, he got himself food for a week's travel and a short sword. Still to small to fully wield a Longsword, his dagger was his only real defence.

With a casual walk, he left the city of Solitude a smirk adorning his smooth features.

Black of hair, falling in a long waterfall, a warrior's plait framing one side of his face, his amber eyes and tanned skin, he looked both feral and noble at the same time.

As he walked he made plans, eager to bring pride to his father and honour to his mother.

 _ **Line Break**_

 _ **2 weeks later**_

 _ **Abandoned Fortress**_

 _ **The Reach**_

Rhonan had long ago decided that being a follower wasn't in the cards for him, his blood demanded obedience. Sighting a long abandoned fortress atop a cliff, he made the climb.

The climb took him a few hours, jagged rocks giving him much needed hand holds. Upon reaching the summit, he immediately realised the old fortress wasn't as abandoned as it seemed.

Taking a deep inhale through his nose, he took in the five scents littered around the keep. 'They will be the first of my guard, but I need to defeat them first' he mused

He spent a few moments casing the outside of the fortress, his superior eyes noting details most humans would miss, easy handholds for scaling the wall, the gate was rotten and in need of repair and then the overall run down appearance of the stone work.

Ogling for long enough, he set to work. Scaling the walls as silently as he could, Rho took in the back of the first man. Clad in leathers, he had a Bow, arrow already notched and two daggers strapped to his waist.

Hefting a rock, Rho pounced upon him, smashing the rock into the Nords head. He crumpled like to the ground with a heavy thud. Ensuring the man would indeed wake, he cast a strong Binding spell on him, taking away movement from the downed Nord.

Sighting another Nord down below in the courtyard working an Anvil, he picked up the hunting Bow, notching two arrows; he took aim and inhaled, loosing both air and Arrows, his missiles struck true, both going through the back of his legs and out the front.

Hopping off the wall, he approached the heavily breathing Nord, obviously trying to keep his screams inside.

Taking out his dagger, Rhonan spun it around and clobbered the man with the heavy pommel. He dropped much like the other. Casting another Bind, he made his way into the keep. 'Two down, three to go' he chuckled with dark amusement, the hunt was always fun.

The other three were also taken down fast, his skills not to be question at all, all thanks to the woman that reared him.

After he finished taking them down, he dragged them into the main hall, run down as it was, and had all five now awake men kneeling before him. Having found a chair he was sat down before them, relaxing as if it were any other day.

"My name is Rhonan, son of Hircine. You have two options, one, I give you the blessing of my father and you serve me till death, two, I kill you now. Choose." He growled, pooring fear into the hearts of his captives.

Slowly they submitted, agreeing to serve him. Drawing a blade across his palm, Rho forced his blood into their mouths, a sinister smirk etched across his face the whole time.

As all three passed out, their bodies adapting to the Lycanthropy, he sat again his hand healing rapidly, already scar tissue.

Before long, all five men erupted into roars, growls and howls of rage and pain as they shifted for the first time. At first they looked to attack him, but before they could twitch, an overpowering aura emitted from the boy, an aura that screamed Alpha!.

Bowing their head in deference, he walked into their midst, running his hands across their fur covered heads.

A bit of growling came from his new servants, but that too soon died down.

"A good start, a Shrine to my father and fixing this place up shall be our top priority" He stated, more to himself then the others.

 _ **Line Break**_

Rhonan spent much time ensuring the loyalty of his new Pack, his Aura growing in strength each day. The Aura was his body releasing a scent into the air, this scent demanding obedience from nearby Lycans.

Even at the age of ten, Rhonan's blood was powerful.

He also began making plans for the raiding of nearby farms and villages, his need for workers to repair and upgrade his new holdfast driving him to short burst of rage.

He was not averse to enslaving lesser beings, that being said, he knew the danger humans posed in number, he would be cautious indeed.

Building his own little kingdom would take time, something his father told him he would have in abundance when he reached the age of seventeen, immortality from natural death.

He could still be killed, but not from natural causes it would seem.

With the help of his small Pack, he gauged the size of his new domain, large was indeed an understatement.

'Tis almost time for me to begin, I need more Lycans, more servants and more power' he stated, his mind running with plans and schemes.

It would soon begin.

 **(A/N)** Hiya, this is indeed a (I hope) fresh story, bare in mind updates will be all over the place.

Hope to get some good reviews, if not, I shall move on with my life, with a middle finger in the air!

This is the start of what im hoping to be a sieries of books.

Rhonan isn't a good person, too much deadric blood inside for that me thinks. He has been in contact with his father, gaining a massive amount of respect for Hircine.

Though he is still to young for a full transformation, he still has a lot of physical power, this will change when he begins going through puberty.

This story is Rated M for lots of Gore and blood and Lemons. Not all about the Lemons but they will be inside so don't like? Don't read!

This is starting a few years before the beginning of Skyrim, enjoy!


	2. Chapter 2, King of Beasts

_**Chapter II: King of beasts**_

Rhonan spent two months and hundred of raids with his new Pack gaining to resources to build up his power base.

Having raided farms and undefended locals, he had brought in slaves whom he put to work on restoring the fortress. The girls were given light duties, consisting of farming the lushly fertile soil surrounding the castle atop the cliff.

With the Fort at its centre, the cliff top was three miles in all directions. From above, it would look like a wide circle with a fort in the middle.

The Fort had its own water source as well, a massive subterranean reservoir connected to a fresh water quarry atop a lower cliff alongside his.

Having also captured a Legionnaire Centurion, he had a new Lycan training his old ones in fighting as a unit; this would get larger as he turned more men. While he wanted me who could fight solo, he also desired raising a fighting force without compare.

In one of the largest sub halls, he had a shrine to his father; Hircine erected, its power taking hold immediately, turning the stone floor into soil and grass, trees beginning to grow and small pools of water forming from the now earthy ground.

Within a week of its forming, animals began appearing, bears, wolves, fish in the pools, birds in the trees and glowing mushrooms on the mossy ceilings.

This gave proof to the truth of Rhonans words; he was the Heir of the Hunting Grounds.

In the main hall, the raised Dias was fully restored, a large throne of wood and furs with antlers sticking out the back residing in the centre. On either side of a long hearth, four long tables were placed for his soon to be warriors and guests.

A handful of young girls were busy with the sewing of a large banner, a black snarling wolf with amber eyes and a full moon behind it, the banner of the Wolf Lord Rhonan, Lord of Fang Peak.

By the end of his first year atop the peak, he had a strong force of fifty warriors, each trained to fight as one, forming shield walls amongst other formations.

Added to their Lycan strength and the fall back of transforming, his military power was decent enough to defend the fortress. The slaves were still working on repairs and bringing the peak back to its former glory, farms flourishing under his rule. He managed to divert water from the reservoir into forming a handful of rivers, forming irrigation for his farms.

He aimed to build another ring of defensive walls along the crest of the cliff, and a smaller fort nearby the quarry. This was a goal for his future years to come.

 _ **Line Break**_

 _ **Five years later**_

 _ **Fang Peak**_

Aela looked on at the massive fortifications and patrolling guards, her face fixed in shock and disbelief. He nose was telling letting her know of the fact that at least two hundred Werewolves were living atop this monstrous fortress. Not even a Legion could take this peak, not with ten thousand men could this be achieved.

The scent of her lord, Hircine was everywhere, his power pooring from the summit, her inner wolf howling in joy.

It took all of her self control just to not march in and submit to the Alpha, she could feel his power as well, so much power.

The companions had been tasked with stopping the raiders in the area, little did they know that the raiders were Lycans themselves!

So focused was she, that she never sensed the approaching presence behind her. The sharp prick of a needle was all she felt before darkness engulfed her.

 _ **Line Break**_

 _ **Fang Peak**_

 _ **Great Hall**_

Rhonan looked on as the huntress was dragged before him, her form very pleasing to his now teenaged senses.

He felt Serana kneel beside him, her Vampiric powers making her stealth truly great. He encountered Serana on one of his delvings, ripping a path through a near horde of undead and blood suckers to get to her.

Upon releasing her, he dominated her mind, taking complete control of her very being. She was very weak at the time, and with his aid, he returned her to his holdfast, taking her into Hircine's hollow, the sacred grove below the Peak.

Using the Elder Magic learned from Hermeus Mora, he severed the source of her Vampire power, Cold Harbour, making his own soul her true master. This was a long ritual, one that sapped much of his strength, but the rewards were great.

Serana was his, mind, body and soul, all eager to serve. She desired only to serve him, his needs were hers to fulfil.

It was common knowledge in his halls that she was his, any who dared to even stare at her would be castrated, with Serana came to ability to forge his own Vampire faction, all loyal to him, and his father Hircine.

Thanks to destroying the connection to Molag-Bal, any Vampires Serana sires will be of the Hircine bloodline, going to the Hunting Grounds upon death like the Lycans.

He had a crypt built in one of the lower halls, made to house his Fang Coven. So far it housed only ten Vampires, each still fledglings learning from Serana.

Bringing his focus back to the newest acquisition, hand idly petting Serana's head, he waiting as Aela regained consciousness, his amusement visible for all to see.

Aela's confusion was evident, taking her time regaining her wits. Before she could begin struggling, he snapped his fingers, unleashing his Aura in full, making her quail in fear, head bowed so her neck was on show, submissive. The rest of the Lycans in the hall were also in this submissive stance.

"Aela, Huntress of the Companions guild… You came here to fight, instead you shall be mine, Hircine demands it, I demand it. Submit, become my mate, like fair Serana here" he purred, hand still caressing the Vampiress.

Aela appeared to be fighting it for a few moments before her resolve diminished and she crawled to his feet, a soft whine coming from her lips.

 ** _(Lemons Begin)_**

Rhonan looked down at the redhead, his lust rising at her beautiful form. In a flash he was on her, tearing armour and cloth from her firm body. Without preamble he entered her from behind, her whines becoming grunts and moans.

Her mind was in bliss as she felt his massive cock ram into her, filling her completely, his balls smacking into her clit with each thrust.

Rhonan kept up his furious pace, reaming her to completion, her fifth orgasm washing over them both. With a roar and hard thrust, Rhonan began pumping his virile seed deep into the Huntress.

They remained like this, his seed trapped inside her hot core, shivers still racking her body in aftershocks.

Leaning in, he murmured "You are mine, my Aela" She gave a soft moan of acceptance, his seed leaving her content, for the first time in her lonely life.

 ** _(Lemons End)_**

 _ **Line Break**_

With Aela, he now had another veteran warrior to aid in the training of his warriors. She helped them master solo combat, surviving long enough for allies to come to the aid.

His warriors began to refer to themselves as the Wolf Guard, a name he approved of. Aela gained leadership of a hundred men, a large force indeed, this mainly coming from a blood oath of Marriage in the grove.

They and Serana were true mates, until death. The two females in his life also came to love each other as much as him, this giving him a sense of contentedness.

Serana was in command of his Vampires, now he needed another captain for the second hundred Lycans in his Wolf Guard.

To that end, he once again ventured out into the world. He spent many months travelling, leaving Serana and Aela in command, an outline of what he desired giving them a game plan.

During his third month, he found himself passing a nearby town called Helgen, a town under attack by a great black dragon.

For some reason his blood began to boil, screaming out for him to engage the Dragon in combat. Without hesitation he charged in, battleaxe whistling through the air as it smashed into the dragon's leg, cleaving through scales and muscles, only stopping when it hit the bones.

The Dragon roared in agony before its tail came crashing into him, sending him flying into a nearby wall, the wall shattering upon impact.

Left dazed, Rhonan struggled to his feet, Axe in hand he made to attack once more, only to pause as a voice slithered his way.

 _ **~Dovahkin, Hin Sil Fen Nahkip Bahloki~**_ the black Dragon growled, the words true meaning lost to all but Rhonan, coming across as more growls then vowels.

The Wolf Lord laughed a great bellowing laugh, his bloodlust rising at the challenge. "You want my Soul, Dragon!? Come and get it!" With that he charged once more, amber eyes glowing in his feral battle lust.

The Dragon responding with Dragons Fire, scorching everything to ash, Rhonan only just managing to avoid the conflagration with a Lycan enhanced leap.

His Axe once more met flesh, rending a chunk from the beast's snout.

That seemed to end it for the winged terror; it having lost the desire to fight, took to the sky, wings engulfing the ground below in massive gusts of wind.

Rhonan had to respect the beasts speed in the air, it was already a dot on the horizon.

With a grunt, he used some magic to heal some slight singing before continuing on his way to Whiterun. 'I hope we meet again Dragon, that was the most fun I've had in years' he mused.

Before he could get far, a small hand grasped at his leg making him pause to peer down. Regardless of the fact that he was only fifteen years old, he stood at an impressive six foot two, towering over most, his Atmoran blood being given thanks for that little trait.

Upon seeing the body that connected to the grasping hand he grinned. She was truly a beauty, around his age if he had to guess, no younger that was for sure.

Kneeling down he raised the soot stained chin of a white/blonde girl, her eyes a deep blue akin to the sky above.

"What is your name, speak" He growled, belying the smile on his face.

Weakly she tried to raise herself to her knees as well, her injuries becoming more apparent as she moved. "Valka, Freyasdottir. Please my lord, I beg your aid" She stated, voice stronger then her body would have you believe.

Without much thought, he summoned his Magicka, casting a healing spell upon the wounded girl. She gave a small gasp as the magic began to ease her pains and breathe new life into her once more.

Grinning a toothy smile, he stated "Your life is now mine, a life debt owed. Serve me and I shall make you strong, betray me and I shall hunt you to the ends of Nirn and back if need be. Understand!" he finished, amber eyes flashing wildly, Aura pulsing at full power.

She instinctually began grovelling, her head bowed, and respect kindling within her soul. "Yes milord" Valka said, gratitude ripe in her soft voice.

Giving a grunt he gathered her up, carrying her bridle style, once more turning towards Whiterun. 'If I train her well, she might just be the next Captain of my Guard. And more' he grinned.

To his back the ruins of Helgen were alight, Dragons Fire still ablaze.

 **(A/N)** Hi all, this is an itch that's been needing to get scratched for some time now. It is my hope that I can give it the respect it is due without offending anyone, but really my OC isn't a good person, he's an antagonist at best.

As you can see, the Dragons are indeed using Dragon tongue, something I shall be taking my time doing to get it right.

I struggle with Dialogue so patience please, any help or advise would be very much appreciated. That being said, if you're going to be a poodoo you know where the figurative door is, let it hit ya on the way out!

This is going to be the first book, Rhonan and his stay in Nirn. Second book will be another world and so on. I hope it remains interesting but meh, to each their own I guess.

Just putting it out there, im not sexist at all, this story is based in times where women were treated with less respect then men, just a fact. Thats not really shown in Elder scrolls but im mixing it with our own dark ages funk. Dont endorse slavery, its being used to make my OC more of a poodoo.

It's a dark fic, not always kittens and huggs. you want that go Elsewyre, see what i did there?

Enjoy!

Words used in Dovahzul:

" _Dovahkin" = Dragonborn_

 _"Hin sil fen nahkip bahloki" = "Your soul will feed my hunger"_


	3. Chapter 3, Whiterun

_**Chapter III: Whiterun  
**_

 _ **Riverwood**_

Rhonan and Valka stopped and a town called Riverwood, both feeling the need for rest. They rented a room at the local Inn, the Sleeping Giant Inn, hot food and good Ale raising their road weary mood.

As they got settled in the shared room, he began to question her skills, trying to learn what was in need of improvement.

She pondered his question for a moment before replying "I am only fifteen, of low birth so, no marriage offers yet. My mother passed a few winters back and I took a position in the kitchens of the lord, Ulfric Stormcloak. He is a tyrant, tried to use me as a shield to get away from the Imperials after him" She paused, trying to restrain her rage before she continued.

"I can cook, clean and sing, that's about it" She finished lamely, head bowed in shame before the warrior sat in front of her. Hearing a grunting laugh she peered up to see him smiling down at her. A slight blush spattered her cheeks as she realised he was amused by her lack of real skills.

"It is fine, I shall train you Valka. Fear not, for I too am young, only fifteen also. My mother passed some years back as well, we have much in common it would seem" This amused him even more.

Above them in his own plane of existence an old man smiled thinking 'More then you know my boy; more then you know'

As the two continued to get acquainted, word spread like wildfire, a Dragon burned Helgen to ashes. As they continued to enjoy a relaxing conversation, Riverwood was in a panic. Word spread all the way to Whiterun, putting the city on alert, the patrols being strengthened and walls constantly manned.

This message would spread further, mere weeks before all of Skyrim would be aware of the newly risen threat.

 _ **Line Break**_

 _ **Whiterun**_

Rhonan approached the gates, his lupine features and glowing eyes putting the guards on edge. "Halt, gates are closed. State your business or move on" one of the guards demanded.

Valka stayed just behind her master, avoiding attention for the most part. Rhonan on the other hand, glared at he guards, his amber orbs boring holes through them. "Move" he growled.

One of them actually started quailing in his boots!

"We can't just let you in, you an unknown!" the same guard shrilly spoke.

The glare got hotter, a silent snarl forcing the Lycans upper lip to rise in a sneer. "Last chance… Move." The rumble emanating from the tall man was the icing on the cake; the guards stumbling to get the gate open and allow him entrance. It was fun scaring weaklings.

As they past through the town, ignoring a dramatic squabble near the gates between some Imp lover and a female smith, the duo made for the nearby Inn, one run by a servant of his fathers, the Drunken Huntsmen, a safe harbour.

As the duo got settled, Rhonan considered what he could get done whist here. He wanted more members of the Companions for his Wolf Guard, and he was in need of a Smith. Those were now his main focus.

Turning to Valka he said "sit. I'm going to teach you how to access your Magicka, after I shall teach you three basic spells" he stated.

After Valka was settled, eager to learn to harness such a power, he began. "Close your eyes, good, now calm yourself, and relax. When you feel relaxed enough, turn your senses inwards, dig deep. Imagine a large pool; the pool of water is near your core, your heart. This is your Magicka, it is from here that you will draw the energy to fuel the spells I shall teach you, focus." This continued throughout the night, him smacking her every time she fell asleep or lost her focus.

As the sun began to rise, she finely found it, her core. Digging into the large pool, she was amazed she had missed it for so long. Hearing a huffing laugh, she opened her eyes to see an amused Rhonan. "Wondered if you would ever get there, eh?" she blushed at his words, agreeing meekly.

Reaching into his bag, he pulled out three tomes, two with the symbol of the school of Restoration and the last the symbol of Destruction. "These shall teach you the spells Healing, Wards and Fire. Take your time, any questions come to me. Don't practice the fire spell first or inside a building, dangerous is an understatement, also make sure there is a bucket of water nearby" He grinned, pleased with his newest follower's progress.

Valka saw the thick book growing pale, this was shameful, a disgrace. "Master… I, I can't read, forgive me" She said, eyes growing wet.

Rhonan looked surprised at first before shrugging "Very well, I shall locate you a teacher, this is one thing I don't have the time to teach. Take this coin, go to the market and find some fresh clothes for yourself, you need them" With that he began heading towards the door, only to pause.

"Also take this, never hurts to have some extra protection" He stated, passing her a well made dagger, wrapped in leather sheath. Gaining a grateful nod, she took it and grasped the small purse of gold.

 _ **Line Break**_

 _ **Dragons Reach**_

 _ **Whiterun**_

Reaching the keep, Rhonan diverted to the keeps mage quarters, thinking them to be the perfect teacher. Before he could get far, he was intercepted by an angry Dunmer. "How dare you, walking into the Jarls hall unannounced with blades no less! Speak, who are you!" She demanded, hand on her own sword.

Rhonan raised an eyebrow, giving her a dark look. He was not a fan of Dunmer, they got to uppity, to superior. His inner wolf roared at him to unleash it, tear the fool apart. He stayed his hand, for now. "My name is Rhonan, I have business with the court mage. My Apprentice, found in Helgen, needs to learn to read, I have little enough time as is" He explained.

He noted her expression soften "You were at Helgen? Come the Jarl will speak with you" Rhonan frowned as he was led to the seated man. The blonde ruler was only just leaving his prime, blonde hair showing wisps of greying.

The Elf leaned in and informed the man of his story, trying to be quiet. To Rhonan, his Lycan sense of hearing could make out the heartbeats of insects in the cellar, whispering just sounds normal, no difference.

"Come, tell me your tale traveller" The Jarl spoke, his eyes kind yet full of grit.

"Rhonan of Atmora is my name. a few days past, I travelled through a town called Helgen, merely wishing to pass through. I was weigh laid by a black Dragon, its eyes red as blood. Seeing the destruction it wrought, I grasped my Axe and leaped into battle, dealing two staggering blows before the beast retreated" he paused for a moment before continuing. "I only located one survivor, a young maiden, she was badly hurt. Upon healing her, we travelled together here; she wished to become my servant. I came here searching for a reading master, one to teach her" he finished, eyes turning to the hooded mage to the side of the Jarl.

Balgruff considered all he had heard, humming in thought. "If you wish it, my mage shall teach the girl, if you do a task for me" he said, eyes alite with interest.

Thinking it over, Rhonan agreed, nothing better to do at the moment. "Your task is to go to Bleakfalls Barrow, in the mountains south of here, and north of Riverwood. Within the Borough you will locate a stone tablet inside the inner chamber. This I need for my research into the Dragons" the Mage said, his voice ripe with excitement.

Looking at a map passed to him by the Dunmer, Irileth, he noted the position of Bleakfalls. "This could take some time. Is there a time limit, if not I would hazard a guess that this may take at least a week" He said, getting nods of agreement.

After hashing out some other smaller details, Rhonan looked into the Mages selection of Magical tomes. Picking up two, Fireball and Lightning.

Taking his leave he went to inform Valka of his task and her lessons. This better be fun.

(A/N) Hey there, quick session on Magicka.

Rhonan can use a handful of spell from the five schools, but his main study has been in Elder Magic.

Now to me Elder Magic encompasses the arts not diverted into any school, Teleportation, Blood Magic, Mind Magic (Not illusion, more akin to Legillemancy from Harry Potter), Soul magic etc…

As you no doubt guessed, we are indeed now getting stuck into the Skyrim story. Rhonan knows some Mind Magics and some other Elder magics thanks to Hermaus Mora owing Hircine from a bet.

You may have also noted Rhonan being more restrained; this comes with him being away from home, bare in mind, he's fifteen as well. People know about raids in the reach, not about who commands them so it's safe for him to be amongst the sheep.

Any side quests you think would be fun? Leave a review or PM. Thanks!


	4. Chapter 4, Bleakfalls

(A/N) Hi there! Quick note, the Lycanthropy that Rhonan can gift, is a lot more powerful, the people he turns will change very rapidly, often losing consiousness for a few hours as their bodies shift.

Declaration! I don't own Skyrim, The Elder Scrolls games or any other verse my character may trip into. Rhonan is mine, Valka is sort of mine, I mean you will see. Meh, there you go! :P

 _ **~Fus~**_ = Thum or Dragon speech

"Greetings" = Normal speech

'Hmmm' = Thought/thinking

Chapter IV: Bleakfalls…

It took Rhonan three days to reach the ancient crypt, his nose informing him of a few living souls ahead. Deciding he needed some warriors of his own, he decided to give them a chance.

The men outside the crypt were fools, and they died like fools. After weaving through their meagre drizzle of arrows they made to attack him with bare hands. Incompetent.

Finding no reason to keep them, Rhonan took his time tearing them apart, laughing the whole time. When he finely made the time to enter the crypt it was to the fearful eyes of two others.

They took one look at his blood drenched, smiling form, before they through down their blades, begging for forgiveness.

Rhonan gave them it, in the form of his fathers blessing. He turned them into Lycans, waiting with them as they finished going through the changes. As Lycans they immediately fell under the commanding Aura of their Alpha.

As the three slowly made their way through the crypts, he explained what it meant to be Lycans, teaching them lesser skills, like using their enhanced senses and strength.

Balak and his mate Merrin were good pupils, each eager to please.

As they entered a room, all three blanched at the smell, death, Draugr stumbling around, groaning with maggots falling out of holes in greyed flesh.

Digging deep, Rho exhaled as he thrust his hands out, two potent fire balls launching into the clumps of dead flesh. Five Draugr went up in a powerful conflagration of heat and…death.

As the group continued on, Merrin scrounging scrolls and gems, whatever wasn't nailed down really, Rhonan continued to blast anything that moved with fire.

 _ **Two days later**_

 _ **Bleakfalls Barrow**_

With so much death, decay and other nauseous scents, their progress was stymied, Rhonan getting lost often enough, it was a wonder they found the door to the main crypt.

Seeing the easy puzzle on the door, Rhonan finished it, putting the animals in the correct order, the door rumbling open.

The chamber on the other side was massive, looking more akin to a cave then chamber. Across a crack in the ground, Rhonan could make out a curved wall, writing taking up most of it and an ancient metal table of the same sort littering the rest of the crypt.

Beside that was a sarcophagus and chest, this whole thing smelling of a trap. "Merrin, Balak, be on guard. This smells like a trap, be ready to transform if need be" he barked, getting nods of accent from his two Lycans.

As the trio approached the wall, a voice could be heard, louder it became the closer they got. "Do you both hear that?" Rhonan asked. Seeing their confused faces he guessed it was only him. "Watch my back" he said.

Walking up to the wall, the voice became a booming base as a handful of the words began to glow. As if in a trance, Rhonan stepped up and raising a hand, touched the words.

 _ **HET NOK FaaL VahLOK  
DeiNMaaR DO DOVahGOLZ  
ahRK aaN **__**{FUS}**_ _ **DO UNSLaaD  
RahGOL ahRK VULOM**_

Knowledge began coursing into his mind, ' _ **Fus'**_ , he knew what that meant, nothing more. The word burned into his mind, his understanding of them beyond what they meant was non existent.

As the booming base eased off, so too did the glow from the words, regaining his functionality, Rhonan turn to his companions. To them it seemed they hadn't noticed anything amiss, something to ponder another time.

As he left the wall, his instincts screamed at him to run, the sarcophagus burst open in a shower of debris, its lid blown clean off.

From inside rose a true spectre of death, heavily armoured in Obsidian, the long dead warrior rose, a wicked black Axe in one hand, icy power in the other. A Draugr Deathlord had risen.

"Be wary! This thing is powerful, don't let it hit you. Transform now!" As he finished speaking, Rhonan ran at the spectre, battleaxe swinging in a great arc, pushing all his strength into a hopeful end before it could begin. Fool.

The spectre merely weaved into his guard, ramming its Axe into his hip. Rhonan gave a bellow of rage and pain, the blade of the axe coming free as he jumped back.

Before he could try to recover, the Undead warrior leaned back, raspy words spewing forth. _**~Fus-Ro-Da!~**_ it shouted, a massive blast of air smashing into him, sending him flying into the word wall behind him.

Dazed, Rhonan tried to regain himself, a struggle that felt like it took an eternity. Looking up he took note of his two newest wolves in a heated battle with the Deathlord, claws and fangs tearing as they used their inhuman speed to dodge the counters.

He used this time to heal up the wound to his hip, rage fuelling him as he too released the wolf. In a blast of fur, growls and rage, he leapt at the Undead warrior mid change.

He came down smashing into the Deathlord with all the weight of a fully transformed son of Hircine, amber eyes and black fur the only things of note beyond the sheer size of his wolf form.

While the other two Lycans were big, Rhonan was at least double their size, powerful muscles rippling under thick fur.

His clawed hand/paws began to tear the Draugr apart, first ripping its head off before the other two members of his pack once again joined in.

The intense dismemberment lasted mere moments, but to the wolves it felt like an age. As the red haze faded, all three began to release the wolf, letting it return within. One thing most rumours about Lycanthropy say, Lycans don't transform around their clothing.

As the three looked at their handy work, they noticed the chill, each now being naked as the day they were born. "Fear not, we can take some clothing from the dead outside the Barrow" Rhonan stated.

With that said, the three ransacked the place, finding the stone tablet and many other things. Rhonan kept the Axe; it was a good blade, enchanted with fire as well.

 _ **Line break**_

 _ **Whiterun**_

 _ **Dragons Reach**_

Rhonan traipsed into the hall, tablet in hand as he made his way over to the Jarl. It had been a full week since he left on his mission, his two companions remaining behind at the Drunken Huntsmen.

At one of the halls tables, Valka and Farangar immersed in her learning's, a thing that pleased him greatly.

As he handed the tablet off to Irileth, he sat with the mage and his servant, taking some of the Ale and food available. "How goes it" he asked, drinking deeply, washing bread down his throat.

Valka seemed to snap out of it as she startled, looking up at him in surprise. "You returned!" She exclaimed, bouncing a little in her seat.

Rhonan looked amused as he nodded in agreement, saying a simple "Indeed" before returning to his meal.

Over the next few hours, Farangar had taken to studying the tablet while still teaching Valka. Rhonan on the other hand had taken to getting some sleep near the fire, a cloak wrapping him in its embrace as he slept.

(A/N) As usual reviews would be nice, let me know what you think, any advice would be of use as well.

 _ **HET NOK FaaL VahLOK  
DeiNMaaR DO DOVahGOLZ  
ahRK aaN **__**FUS**_ _ **DO UNSLaaD  
RahGOL ahRK VULOM**_

 _ **Here lies the guardian  
Keeper of (the) Dragonstone  
And a **__**force**_ _ **of unending  
Rage and darkness**_

This will be a common thing for chapters where they find Words of power. Enjoy!


	5. Chapter 5, Legacy in Blood

_**Chapter V: Legacy in blood**_

It had been a week since Rhonan's delving into Bleakfalls Barrow, a trip that both humbled and excited him.

It was in the depths of the crypts that he realised how weak he was, the Draugr getting the better of him in close combat.

Having soon grown bored of watching Valka learn her words, he took Merrin and Balka out into the wilds, training the two in the ways of Hircine and Lycans in general. They excelled in his teachings, loyalty growing with each day under him.

Finely he decided it was time to deal with the Companions, the Lycans having caught his scent long ago, all were huddled within Jorrvaskr, readying themselves for a battle.

He knew he could delay no longer, they being needed back at the Peak to aid in the training of his Wolf Guard.

 _ **Line Break**_

Skjor looked on as the mead hall came to life, his shield siblings rising to the smell of food and ale. It had been months since his Aela had vanished, his misery felt by all.

Kodlak Whiteman, Harbinger of the Companions looked on from his seat, his children full of revelry and vigour. He was getting old now; it was good to see such spirit filling these hallowed halls.

Every went silent, tomb-like even, the doors having been kicked open as three figures entered. The reason for the silence, the entire circle had risen, weapons in hand and snarling growls rumbling deeply across the hall.

As the three entered, light hit the face of the lead. His hair was as black as night, eyes of amber glowing softly and a black beard growing across his lower face hiding the sharp features behind it.

Prowling forward, the man paused on the outskirts of the hearth, his stance relaxed, completely showing his confidence to the other wolves.

The circle could smell the Lycanthropy from them, just as the newcomers could smell it on them as well. "Greetings Companions of Ysgramor, I am Rhonan of Atmora, son of Kella, Shield Maiden of the Atmoran clan Naga. I would love to share pleasantries, but time is short. I demand to undertake the trial of blood" Rhonan stated, voice full of conviction.

Kodlak looked at him, staring into the mans soul even, trying to find the reason behind this stunt. "You know what the trial entails, youngsters these days. Fine Atmoran, we shall humour you. Vilkas, fetch the rune blade, we shall see if this ones claim is true" Here the circle snorted, Vilkas moving off to complete his task.

Farkas looked curiously at the man, his eyebrow raised. "I didn't know any still remained on the frozen continent" He said, voice a deep baritone.

Rhonan smiled softly at the near childlike question. "I was the last, the Atmoran wraiths tend to be bad for the health, watched as my mother fended off hundreds of the beasts, she gained true greatness that day, ascending to the realm of my father" he finished, his knowing smirk leaving a cold feeling in Kodlak's gut.

His inner wolf had been very quiet, too quiet.

Soon enough Vilkas returned, hefting an artefact of Ysgramor himself. As was tradition, Kodlak spoke. "All here present today, bare witness to the Trial of Blood. This blade, be the blood spilt by it hold true, shall glow blue. Be the blood false, nothing. False will mean the death of the supplicant, all may take the trial, none have passed" He said, voice grave.

"Your palm, Atmoran" He said. Rhonan didn't hesitate, making his way over to the elder; he gave up his hand, no pause before the blade sliced into flesh. Everyone held their breadth, eager to see the verdict, not that the non circle members knew what it truly symbolised.

As if on cue, the blade erupted in a shower of blue light, marking the first applicant to pass the Trial. Shock seemed to be the only emotion any of the Companions felt, the unspeakable had come at long last.

Gathering his wits, Kodlak placed the still glowing blade atop the table, before kneeling down in homage to Rhonan. "All hail! Ysgramor's Heir has come!" The old wolf roared.

As one, most still getting over the shock, the Companions knelt before the descendant of Ysgramor of old.

Slowly, Rhonan helped ease Kodlak to his feet, the elder feeling his age. "Rise brave ones, I've not come for such frivolous niceties. Come sit, I shall tell the tale of this coming to be" Rho said, his voice full of happiness. The Companions, old and new gathered before the hearth, each eager to hear the tale.

Taking his seat, Rhonan accepted a cup of ale before clearing his throat. "Long before Ysgramor left for his exodus, he fell in love. This love bore fruit in the form of a daughter. The mother did not last the birthing. Ysgramor in his pain gave the child to his sister, this and a culmination of the great many other pains leading towards the journey of him and his loyal five hundred" Rhonan took a sip of ale before continuing.

"After his departure, the daughter knowing fully of who sired her, trained her life away in the arts of the Shield Maidens, taking on many a foe. She became known as Vera Demonbane, a true warrior. Soon she came to fall in love also, giving birth to a girl before dieing in birth like her own mother, a sad tale follows my brothers, from mother to daughter this tale continues, each mother ending the same way… until mine own, my mother pushed through the birthing curse, bringing me into the world" drinking more he paused, gathering his wits before finishing the tale.

"My mother fell for only one man, for at the time no one else lived in Atmora, the land is now truly that of the dead. I stand before you now, the last of my line, Rhonan, Son of Kella, descendant of Ysgramor… and Sired by Hircine, Lord of the Hunt!" He heard a few gasps of surprise at this, the new bloods not realising the true significance of this.

Taking a deep breadth, Rhonan stood. "I come to claim leadership of the Companions, as my ancestor would want. What say you?!" He roared.

At first there was silence, before a slow thumping rhythm took hold, Skjor ramming his cup into the tabletop. The circle followed, also joining in the rhythm, before long the rest of the hall was partaking in the supportive tempo.

Rhonan stood their, soaking in the glory of a moment that had been too long in the coming.

 _ **Line break**_

The whole of Whiterun listened in both shock and awe, Jorvaskr was doing something only heard of in fables, roaring their approval, thumping their tears of happiness into the tables of the mead hall, sounding the Horn long since forgotten, the Horn of Ysgramor, only to be sounded at the coming of one who held his blood.

Before long the halls doors erupted as the mass of Companions marched out, shouting Rhonan, Leader, and Lord.

Atop the shields of the mighty host, smiling from ear to ear was Rhonan, his laughter joining those of his Companions.

Soon the rest of Whiterun joined in the celebrations; a hallowed lineage restored once more, a lineage of heroic deeds and the founder of Skyrim itself.

The roars of the crowds and his Shield brothers and sisters would be forever remembered in the hearts and souls of the city.

In the Hunting Grounds, Hircine looked on in pride as he and Kella watched their son take up his heritage, gaining the loyalty of his brothers and sisters in arms.

"He's grown so well, thank you for gifting me with the time I had with him Hircine" Kella said, tears flowing freely from her steely eyes.

Hircine merely growled a soft rumble, his eyes soft with affection.

Akatosh looked on, pleased with his Champions efforts. Alduin would once again be pushed back, this was a must.

The girl would aid young Rhonan in this, all to his plans.

The celebrations went on for a full four days, mead and ale flowing like a river from the halls of Jorvaskr. Meat and other foods shared in happiness, contests of strength and skill coming into existence.

Even the Jarl joined his people in the celebratory excess, revelry and music being heard all over.

A bright start for the dark times ahead.

 **(A/N)** Bam! Didn't see that coming did ya! If you did… kudos.

Rhonan commands the Companions, now what is he going to do with such mighty warriors hmm?

Stay tuned till next time folks!

Reviews are liked btw…


	6. Chapter 6, Watchtower

_**Chapter VI: Watchtower**_

In the two weeks following Rhonan's big reveal, much had changed. He called a meet of the Companions, bringing all members in; he outlined his first official task.

Under his order, the Guild was to pack up everything, all Artefacts and items of significance were to be made ready for travel. At first this caused some unwanted reactions, many questioning why.

With a few words he outlines his goals for the Guild.

One, move from Whiterun to Fang Peak, showing them its location on a map, two, once arrived, they would aid in the training of a faction called the Wolf Guard, under the guidance of the Circle this would be achieved, Three, the Companions would integrate, becoming Wolf Guard themselves.

This of course caused an outcry, many raging over the loss of such a renowned guild, a fact that he was quick to dissuade. "The guild is not being destroyed, it is evolving, the history will be ours still, we will merely have a different name. No longer are the Companions a mere mercenary faction, you serve me now, as is right" This eased some of the anger, but he knew that most would have left if the Circle wasn't fully behind him.

He aimed to let the thirty odd new bloods and any recruits Aela and Serana had found take the blood when they completed the basic training, he wanted the Wolf Guard to become legendary warriors, anything less would shame him and his father.

As the Companions made ready to leave, he summoned a Hawk with his father's powers, writing a small note for Aela.

 _Companions are making ready for the move, be ready to receive them within the month._

 _Rhonan._

Short and to the point, no need to embellish.

Anothing thing to change over the few weeks was that he also began training Valka in the ways of the warrior, it becoming a common sight, her running laps throughout the town each day.

As her stamina was increased, he also began letting her get a feel for the different weapons, not being surprised when she went for short axe and sword, both being used together.

That aside, she would also learn to use a shield, knowing that everyone serving him will end up fighting in a shield wall eventually as was the way of war.

At the present, he, Valka, Farkas, Merrin and Balak were knee deep in Draugr, wading deeper into a Crypt he visited years in the past, Dimhollow Crypt. He received a dream, one telling him to return.

Soon he realised why, before him sat another curved wall, this one holding the same written language as Bleakfalls.

Once more a trance-like state overcame him, the deep booming song, as if sung by a thousand warriors was beating down upon him as he approached.

Out of his peripheral vision he noticed Valka also seemingly engrossed, the rest were just keeping vigil.

As he took another step, words lit up, bathing him in their light.

 _ **HET NOK KOPRaaN DO SVOLO  
WO PIRaaK MULaaG Wah KRiiN  
DOVah NUZ NI **__**{GaaN}**_ _ **Wah  
KRiiN POGaaN**_

Like before, the words flowed into his mind, he understood them, but Gaan stood out above all, this word burning into his mind like a brand.

To his right he saw Valka drop to her knees, head in hands. This snapped him from the trance, he knelt down, hand on her shoulder giving comfort; she was still unused to real pain.

Slowly Valka regained herself, standing strong once more. As the group left Dimhollow, the only thoughts going through his mind were 'What in the name of Hircine is going on, first me and now Valka!'

 _ **Line Break**_

 _ **Whiterun**_

A week after their return found him and Valka standing at the gates, giving a brief farewell to the Companions. The entirety of Whiterun was in attendance, waving off a guild that had brought much to the city.

The Jarl had of course made attempts to keep the Guild, all were turned down. They had found their true calling at long last, nothing would get in the way of this.

As Kodlak approached him, they embraced "You have the location, nothing else is needed. She will meet you on arrival, and you shall all rejoice. Safe travels my friend" With that Whitemane, last Harbinger of the ancient warriors Guild passed from Whiterun, never looking back.

Things had been tense with the Jarl since then; he was not pleased with him ordering the Companions to move, not at all.

He and Valka were closer, both having undergone a ritual to share the word 'Fus' that he learned from Bleakfalls. The side effect was it shared some of the other person's feelings, emotions, and thoughts. At first this caused some issues, Valka was very much infatuated with her master, obsessed really.

It having also been some time, Rhonan gave in to temptation.

 _ **(Lemons Begin)**_

Reaching over, he grabbed the back of her neck, pulling her in, kissing her hard and long, tongue gaining entry into her mouth as she happily joined in.

They stayed like this for a few moments, it getting more heated as the seconds went by, before long they needed air, so paused in sucking the souls from each others faces.

Both red faced, they locked the door to the room at the Drunken Huntsmen before stripping in an excited manner.

Before long he was on top of her, Valka having laid on her back for comfort, positions at her wet core, finger stroking her into a heated frenzy.

Moaning wantonly, Valka grabbing his shaft, pumping it with all the experience of a virgin eager to give him pleasure as well.

Giving a grunt, Rhonan spread her legs, then her lower lips before taking his rod and slowly pushing it in. She gave a slight whimper, his entry both uncomfortable and pleasurable at the same time.

Taking a moment, he paused, head inside, leaning down he engaged her in another heated kiss as he gave a powerful thrust, sheathing himself to the balls. Valka gave a shuddering cry, muffled as it was by the tongue in her mouth.

Reaching down, Rhonan began playing with her nub, hoping to alleviate the pain, before long it seemed to have worked; Valka had begun grinding her hips into him.

With that incentive, Rhonan began thrusting hard, his need and lust having been too long held back. Valka pushed back with each thrust, moaning in varying pitches as she relished in her pleasure.

A few times over she would suddenly go stiff as if electrocuted, her orgasms powerful to behold and feeling her core constrict him was a truly godlike experience.

They kept up their rutting pace for a few more moments before both gave a cry of release, his seed pouring into her, potent in its volume. Valka mewled as she felt him filling her up.

They fell into a deep sleep that night, Rhonan still sheathed within her.

 _ **(Lemons End)**_

 _ **Line break**_

 _ **Next day**_

 _ **Whiterun**_

"Dragon! A Dragon is attacking the Watchtower!" Came the fearful shout, shouts of fear and a rising wall of noise erupting from the citizens.

It was this that broke through the haze of a sex induced sleep, both Rhonan and Valka extricating themselves from each other, Valka with a shy smile on her face, Rhonan with a satisfied grin.

Giving her a soft embrace and kiss, he said "Come, let us pack and be ready for anything, another Dragon eh?" he chuckled

She smiled more brightly at his loving eyes, full of a fierce protectiveness. Gathering herself, she too began getting her things in order.

Not half an hour later, a thumping at the door made them both grip weapons. Rhonan answered the door, not being overly surprised when he saw Irileth on the other side. "Well met Irileth, what brings you to our door" he enquired, knowing full well she was here for his aid.

Inclining her head, immediately taking in the packed belongings, she began "my Jarl has requested your aid in the coming battle against the winged terror plaguing the Watchtower. Will you aid Whiterun once again, you will be well rewarded Atmoran" She said, voice near pleading.

Looking back to Valka, he raised a brow, asking for her input. Seeing this she shrugged, a small smile adorning her soft features.

Sighing he said "Very well, but this shall be my price. The Dragon, when killed, shall be rendered down, its hide and blood are mine, no questions asked and Should I be the one to kill it, two thousand gold Septim's on top also non negotiable. Agreed?" He stated, amber eyes daring her to argue.

A look of relief crossed her features as the dark elf gave a hurried nod of agreement. A steep price, but for a warrior of Rhonan's skill, worth it.

 _ **Line Break**_

 _ **Outskirts of**_

 _ **Whiterun**_

Rhonan looked upon the force Jarl Bulgruff had assembled to fight a Dragon, twenty guards, himself, Valka and Irileth. Not good enough, this was going to end with a lot of dead men, none having been truly prepared for the battle to come.

He had insisted on Valka wearing his fire proofing gear, light leather armour enchanted to resist fire. This would add a layer of protection to his newest lover.

Before long they came across the smoking remains of the watchtower, the melted remains of its guards the only thing remaining, truly pathetic. Sensing the trap that was now sprung, he called out a warning, too late.

The right half of the unit, the one not five feet from him went up in a blaze of flame, screams not lasting longer then a few seconds as the massive heat scorched the flesh from their bones, blood boiling within the confines of their armour.

Grabbing Valka he ran for cover, they were all prey now, the real hunter being above them, swimming along air currents as it shot fireballs from its steaming maw.

Now down to a mere eight guards, Irileth was nowhere in sight, he yelled for someone to shoot it out of the sky.

In reply six Bows unleashed steel tipped arrows, one or two bouncing off of the beasts hide, others were missing completely. "Aim for the wings!" He shouted, enraged at their incompetence.

Taking up a hit and run tactic, the defenders began weaving between the ruins, often the Dragons fire clipped Valka, her enchanted armour keeping her mostly safe.

Soon enough the wings of the great green beast began tearing, making it harder for the sky hunter to fly, meaning maintaining the pressure would bring it onto the ground, weakening the beasts ability to fight.

Thankfully it happened just in the nick of time, the last of the group's arrows shredding a nerve cluster, forcing a roar of pain from the crashing beast.

Now things became both easier and vastly more difficult, a cornered beast was a dangerous beast.

Much to his fear, Valka saw this as a chance, rushing forward with a new found war cry, she got close, and it all went to hell.

The beast's clawed paw rushed out, smashing her into the ground with a massive burst of rage, eliciting a scream of agony, bones cracking under the pressure.

The beast was about to tear her head off when Rhonan charged in, rage fuelling the powerful blow from his axe, smashing into the beasts right eye.

The beast howled in rage, tail curving round to smack Rhonan away. As slowly regained his bearings he looked up to see the beasts head hovering above Valka.

 _ **~Rek sahlon do hi, zu'u fen du ek sil fod hi lingraav~**_ it murmured, heated breadth washing Valka's white/blonde hair away from her pained face.

Enraged by the beast's words, seeing the ever increasing fear on Valka's face, Rhonan unleashed his inner beast. In the split second it took him to reach his foe, Rhonan the man was gone, replaced by Rhonan the Werewolf, Trueborn son of Hircine.

Leaping atop the Dragons head, his clawed hand rammed into the beasts ruined eye, Fur covered arm sinking into the beasts head, up to the elbow. The Dragon roared and wailed, not expecting such a fierce attack, feeling the agony of this new monsters claws ripping into the soft tissue of it brain. The beast was dead long before the Lycan ceased its assault, arm slowly removing itself from the gushing wound.

As his rage eased, Rhonan returned to his human form, dropping to his knees beside his love. His assault had forced the beast to spasm, its own paw putting more pressure onto the poor girl.

She was in a sorry state, ribs cracked, internal bleeding. He knew of only one way to save her, he was going to offer it soon anyway.

Slicing into his wrist, he forced her to drink is blood, giving her his fathers blessing, and hopefully saving her.

The blood took effect almost immediately. As she fell into a deep sleep, her body began adapting to the Lycanthropy, healing and growing stronger, bones growing dense and muscles more flexible and powerful.

As this happened, the Dragon began to glow, a reddish haze taking the form of the beast he just slew, this lasted a few seconds before it rushed at the duo, splitting and channelling into both of them.

As it did, he felt both power and fresh understanding coarse through him, the words so burned into his mind became more tangible, he knew them, felt them, and tasted them.

Standing he took a deep breadth before rasping out _**~Fus!~**_ . a massive blast of air washed outwards, smashing into the nearby ruin, turning it to dust as it was crushed apart by what he now realised to be a Thum, or Shout.

The remaining guards mostly still in a state of shock over the fact that he was a Lycan and now over the fact that he and most likely Valka were Dragonborn, began to cheer.

He returned to Valka, her life still at risk regardless of his blood now changing her and healing her. 'To dangerous to move' he thought.

Ignoring the hero worship he felt coming from the guards, he began ordering them to build a fire, fetch water, look for survivors and for one to return to whiterun to inform the Jarl and bring a healer and Apothecary for the rendering of the beast.

They didn't hesitate, following his barked orders like professionals, if only.

 **(A/N)** Heya, so yea… that was a thing. Okidoki, Rhonan is a badass, but I think I failed to show him as loving to his Mates, Serana and Aela receive the same tenderness as Valka did, regardless of his first domination of Aela, Wolf logic bro!

The Beasts words to Rhonan:

 _ **Rek sahlon do hi, zu'u fen du ek sil fod hi lingraav**_

 _ **She smells of you, I will devour her soul while you watch**_

Reviews are desired, need to know if im doing ok. Any advise or ideas, send em my way! ^^


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